


Cover Your Eyes

by Inkforwords



Series: It's the little things [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Hale Family - Freeform, Spoilers for Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:12:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkforwords/pseuds/Inkforwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something that Derek said a few months ago has been worming away at Stiles since finding out about Cora being alive, so Stiles shows Derek the report from the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cover Your Eyes

Stiles is standing in the entryway of the dining room, hovering slightly and trying to decide if this was even a good idea. His gut told him no, to just leave it alone and let things happen, let Derek find out on his own. But a niggling part of his brain told him that Derek had a right to know.

He very nearly trips into the room, hands shaking a little with the sudden spike of anxiety and adrenaline running through his system. He gets to the stack of manila files that sit in an ominous pile on the buffet in the dining room. Cold cases that his father has brought home, some filled with past cases his dad has worked, others that he just can't seem to understand why they don't have answers and some finished cases that seem to haunt him even though they are closed now.

He's looking for one file in particular and as he scans the tabs, his fingers hovering over the sides of them, he finds the one with _'Hale Fire'_ written in his father's scrawl. He lets out a ragged sigh and digs it out of the pile, it feels like lead in his hands.

He drops it onto the table, flipping it open after a moment of staring at it and thumbs through the reports from officers until he gets to the initial report from the Fire Marshall and his father. He swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair and flips it closed. He remembers looking through this before, parts of it not adding up when he was trying to figure out who the alpha was a few months ago.

Derek had said that 11 people died in the fire. But the report only mentioned 8. At the time, Stiles hadn't thought anything of it, thinking that maybe Derek had been referring to himself, Laura and Peter as people who died. That they hadn't physically died, but emotionally. He never thought that maybe Derek had gotten it wrong, that there were only 8 bodies, that Derek didn't know that others survived. Three others, to be exact. One of whom was Cora, Derek's younger sister, now suddenly here in Beacon Hills.

He feels sick, his stomach rolling and he knows he should show Derek. It's a quick, quiet ride to the Hale house and he doesn't really recall much of it, just driving through the rain, his hands turning the wheel in a familiar way. It's odd how familiar this is now, how he knows to pull ahead a little farther than the entrance near the road because there is a huge dip in the road, howe knows exactly where the potholes are and that he can't go too quickly up the gravel path because it'll ruin the shocks on his Jeep. That's how much he's been out here this summer.

Derek will know he's here, he probably had him from the road and Stiles doesn't bother honking his horn, if Derek doesn't come out on the porch then Stiles will just have to find. As expected, when he pulls up and parks in front of the house, Derek doesn't come out onto the porch like he usually would. The camaro is there though, so Stiles knows that's there. Has been every day since him and Scott were in the vault.

Something in Stiles pinches painfully because the only reason Derek is coming here is because he think that maybe if Cora regains some of herself that she'd come here, come home. He lets out a long, ragged sigh and reaches across the console to grab the manila folder, tucks it inside his sweatshirt and tugs his hood over his head. He heads to the back of the house where he found Derek yesterday and he stops short when he gets around to the back yard.

Derek is there, stand at the edge of the yard, hands in shoved in his pockets, his back to Stiles, staring at the treeline. He's soaked and Stiles wonders how long he's been standing there. His shirt is sticking to him and his dark jeans look even darker. His hair is flattened from the rain. He's been there for a while.

Stiles watches him, breathing slowly and quietly, thinking maybe he should leave. He doesn't want to get closer, doesn't want to interrupt whatever is going through Derek's head right now, he knows better. He could just leave the file on the porch, somewhere where it won't get wet and leave. Just as he's about to move, to go up the steps of the remains of the back deck and place the file on the chair there, Derek shifts. He angles his head just a little, turning slightly to almost look over his shoulder.

Stiles knows it's just Derek letting him know he's there. Stiles’ fingers twitch at his side and raindrops start to collect on his eyelashes. "I found something I think you should look at." Stiles says softly, knowing Derek can hear him. Derek doesn't move and he makes no indication that he should, so Stiles goes over to the porch and carefully climbs the rotting steps.

He drops his hood and with one hand he wipes the water from his face with his sleeve and then unzips his sweatshirt to pull out the file. He lets out a yelp of surprise when Derek is suddenly there, gripping his elbow firmly, leaning in close. Despite the cold rain and the dampness Stiles can feel the heat radiating off Derek's body.

"You shouldn't be here." Derek says, his words less of a growl than they had been yesterday when he'd said the same thing. He's almost softly spoken now, like he's just exasperated and tired of telling Stiles to stay away.

"Just dropping this off and then you can continue your melancholy sulk in the rain." Stiles says, choosing to ignore the way his cheeks heat from Derek being so close, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapped around his arm even through his layers.

"Stiles." Derek says and that is a growl this time, Stiles can almost feel it vibrate through him with how close Derek is. He knows what's going to come next, the second half of the 'you shouldn't be here speech'. Telling him how Cora and Boyd are moonsick and that they are feral and might attack anything that smells like a threat and Stiles very much smells like a threat, given that he's friends with Scott. It's not the only reason either, but Derek doesn't say it, doesn't ever even mention it, gets quiet about it. Stiles doesn't know how to feel about that, so he kinds of just lets it go, because right now his relationship with Derek, whatever it is, is not the top priority, even if he kind of wants it to be.

"You should look at it." Stiles says, finally drawing out the manila folder as Derek turns slightly, still holding onto Stiles. He has a brief thought that maybe Derek doesn't want to let go as much as Stiles doesn't want him to, but he shoves that down.

Derek stares at it, his brow furrowing and Stiles watches as a few stray drops of water drip down the side of his face, one pooling at the tip of his nose, the other gliding down and disappearing under his jaw. Stiles clamps his jaw tight and forces his eyes away, down at the folder.

Derek takes it, letting go of Stiles, who lets out a soft breath when he does so. Derek gingerly holds the folder, his wet fingers leaving behind discolored splotches on the folder as he flips it open. He glances up at Stiles, giving him what Stiles can only say is a vulnerable look. It hurts, to see that look on Derek's face and know that he's the one putting it there, however indirectly he's doing it.

"What is this?" Derek asks, his words are quiet, but Stiles can hear the hitch in his voice.

"The report from the fire. I didn't think you'd ever seen it and I wanted to show you something...it just never clicked with me. You mentioned when we first met that there were eleven people who died in the fire." Stiles says and Derek nods along, tilting his head to look back down at the file and the report in front of them. His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes darting everywhere on the page.

Stiles reaches out, one long finger tapping the most crucial part that he wants Derek to see. "Derek, there were only eight bodies found." Stiles says and watches the way that Derek's entire body goes rigid. He knows now that he was right, that Derek hadn't meant himself, Laura and Peter in those eleven. Just seeing the way Derek's face breaks, the way his body coils tight, yet he hunches in on himself, Stiles knows that Derek thought everyone else was dead.

Stiles reaches out to take the folder from Derek, but he snarls and Stiles takes a quick step back, jostling the folder and Derek drops it, making a pained noise. Stiles doesn't know if it's from the shock or from the fact that he actually snarled at Stiles, because he's never done that, ever. The papers scatter and Derek drops down with them, breath hitching, fingers digging into his jeans.

"Shit. Derek, it's okay. Hey, breathe." Stiles says, immediately dropping in front of Derek and grabbing his cheeks, cradling Derek's face in his hands, watching as the red blinks in and out from his hazel eyes.

"We-we had a failsafe... that if we if our secret was ever compromised we'd scatter...try to find each other when it was safe..." Derek gasps out as Stiles runs one hand through Derek's wet hair, giving him a weak look, trying to comfort him. It hasn't exactly been safe in Beacon Hills for werewolves in a while.

Then suddenly his arms are full of a soaking wet, two hundred pound werewolf, strong arms wrapping around his waist and a cold wet nose pressing against his neck as Derek breathes in his scent.

"We'll find them." Stiles whispers, closing his eyes as Derek shudders against him. There are two more Hales out there and he hopes for Derek's sake that they're still alive.

 


End file.
